UPDATED AUTHOR's Note - 7/30/2012- This story was originally supposed to have been my entry in Slipgate's Valentine Contest, and even though I had several other stories running at that point, the deadlines for that contest, combined with a conversation in the Writer's Forum seemed to make immediately diving into writing this story a necessity. However, as usually happens with me, one idea spurred another and what was going to be a brief romp turned into a much larger and more serious drama. The original contest, needless to say, has long since come and gone. In the meantime, however, the first four chapters of THE PRINCESS DIARIES have gone on to win a FANNIE AWARD (tied with Sobriety's magnificent MOST WANTED for BEST KIGO of 2011,) so while completetion of this story had taken a back seat to the finishing of my uber-epic AT THE CENTERFOLD OF THE STORM, that monster is now in it's final chapters, so for all those who've fav, followed and waited, I'm pleased to say that PRINCESS DIARIES is now back in production at full steam ahead. One little warning though... the terms of the original contest dictated the that the story couldn't have an M rating, but now that THAT's gone, there may be a scene or two that MAY push beyond that envelope. Expect to see the new chapters popping up VERY soon. Legal disclaimers: Kim Possible, Shego, Ron Stoppable, Dr. Drakken, Dr. Director, Doctor Anne Possible, Dr. James Possible, The Tweebs, Monique, Motor Ed, Professor Demnetor, Jack Hench, Bonnie Rockwaller and the Lowardians are the creations of Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley, and those names are all trademarks of the Disney media organizations. Clarisse Renaldi, Joseph and the nation of Genovia are the creations of Meg Cabot, whose The Princess Diaries have also been made into two feature films by the aforementioned Disney. Use in use in this context is probably considered fair under parody law, but just in case: this work was not created for profit, no money changed hands etc. Also, this story takes place at a time at which all sexually active human characters are over the age of 18 and are legally consenting adults..

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The Princess Diaries – The KiGo Edition

by SHADO Commander

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CHAPTER 1

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Tuesday, September 23

* click- BEEP!*

Okay Diary, we're trying something new today. No more writing, just speaking into this new software that stores my voice directly to my Kimmunicator's hard storage with a triple encryption algorithm that even the Tweebs would have trouble cracking. No, this wasn't my brainstorm. It was all Mom's idea, and somehow she got Wade to agree to set it up. Why?

Because my Mom is crazy, that's why!

Well… to be a little less harsh…

Part of it is that I threatened to do something incredibly violent to my brothers a few months ago, the last time they stole my old diary. But my mom also thinks that if I talk things out to myself, then go back and listen to them later, I might be able to solve some of the issues that she thinks I'm having. Her theory is that part of the therapeutic effect of having a diary is diminished during the act of physically writing the words down, because I have a mental filter that engages and censors what I'm really thinking at the same time it's thinking about spelling and grammar. With talking, on the other hand, it supposedly all just tumbles out. That's what she thinks, anyway.

What it really is, is a compromise - what my mom really wanted was for me to start seeing a shrink. Yeah, right! Like there's any way I'm going to do that. After all, what is going to a psychiatrist except a tacit admission that you think you might be going crazy? And I'm not going crazy. I'm not.

I've just been a little… stressed.

No, seriously, it's so not the drama. And fortunately, while my mother's the brain surgeon and I'm just her daughter and a kid straight out of high school, I AM a legal adult now. And I HAVE saved the world a few times so I must have something going for me upstairs, right?

But that last part is why Mom thinks I'm going nuts. She thinks I've been holding my emotions in way too tightly as a coping mechanism for way too long; and that I've been becoming less social, and, um… communicative of my feelings as a result of all the strange things that have happened to me over the last few years. And of course, that's true to an extent. I mean, things have happened to me that nobody else has a frame of reference for: I've had my body swapped with a boy, been bound at the molecular level to my worst enemy, gained and lost super powers, had my emotions altered and my mind controlled, broken more bones than Evil Knievel, been nearly killed about 1346 times, all culminating in my being kidnapped by aliens just as I was about to graduate from High School, and having to join up with Drakken and Shego to stop the Lowardians. The only person in the world who COULD understand was Ron.

And okay, my breaking up with Ron had something to do with mom's concern too, but honestly, that was just the two of us realizing that we really, really weren't ever going to be compatible that way.

Yeah, that way. As in 'We did it." Or, to be more precise, we tried to do it. A couple of times, in fact. But SOMETHING would always seem to happen to make everything go terribly, terribly wrong. I'm not talking about he couldn't… um, you know… or that I had the girl equivalent of the same. I'm talking about things that would have scared away anyone except a couple of teenagers with a desperate case of overflowing hormones.

You know those movies, the ones where all the couples keep sneaking off to have sex, even though they KNOW there's an axe murderer in the woods? Well, it turns out that they're true. Teenagers will go through ANYTHING to have sex, no matter what the horrific consequences might be.

Of course, it wasn't until about halfway through our final attempt at de-virgining ourselves that I finally realized that. AFTER I'd accidentally blackened my eye and dislocated my wrist, and Ron had broken his nose, and we'd both fallen on the floor a half dozen times, when we BOTH ended up on the floor on opposite sides of the bed. I remember the dull throbbing in the back of my skull from where it had tested the structural stability of the faux-cherrywood flooring, and hearing Ron moan, and somehow… we both managed to crawl back on the bed, swearing that we were going to DO this if it killed us... and then we just collapsed and lay there, sprawled in a pile, looking into each other's eyes and at the physical wrecks we'd become trying to do something that was anything but sensual and romantic.

It should have been humiliating. It should have been heartbreaking.

And instead, at the exact same moment, we'd both started laughing.

And at that moment I knew:

"You don't want to do this anymore either!" I'd suddenly accused Ron, realizing that he'd been getting clumsier and clumsier every time we'd tried to get more, ahem, 'intimate.' Fortunately, he caught the 'either' and it looked like the weight of the world had suddenly lifted off his shoulders.

"Well, it's not ALL me, exactly, KP," my best friend since pre-k sighed, blushing a bright red that was truly astonishing, extending from one protruding ear all the way to the other. "I mean… I wouldn't mind, 'cause I AM a guy, after all, and you're well… YOU. But…"

"But?"

"I don't think my monkey powers WANT us to… you know."

So that's when Ron pulled out this crazy admission about this whole Monkey Master thing and how it's been secretly affecting him for the last two years. I wasn't really aware of just how powerful it had become until he'd had to pull it out in order to fight the Lowardians, but according to Ron, he thinks that it's been the Monkey Power that's been trying to push us apart. It had been subtle at first, manifesting in the form of weird dreams Ron would have where I would turn out to be a synthodrome or an evil clone. Then it had moved to what Ron now calls the 'possession stage," where he would start getting weird impulses to do strange things that he couldn't resist doing, even though he knew they were often wrongsick. And now, for the last month, he'd reached what he was calling the full-monkey treatment, and every time we tried to get 'romantic,' he kept finding himself flashing back to the time I got turned into a monkey. Not just remembering it, but actually seeing me as a monkey.

Yeah, I know. It sounds like the most elaborate "It's not you, it's me," speech in the history of the universe, but it did explain the weird vibe I'd been getting every time we'd tried to take our relationship to a new level; that eerie sensation that kept telling me that something just wasn't right about Ron and myself as anything other than friends. Not to mention Ron's bizarre behavior our entire senior year, the whole pants falling down every time we went out on a date thing AND the fact that on our last three dates he'd brought me bananas instead of flowers. And if the whole things sounds way so the Deus Ex Machina, let me tell you that once you've seen someone glowing blue while the sound of a million chattering monkeys fills the air… well, when someone who really knows about monkeys on that kind of quantum level tells you that something is serious monkey business, you find yourself believing them.

And, to be perfectly honest, at the time I was just glad that Ron was being the gentleman and not pressing for any details on what MY issues were, besides the fact that it was feeling as awkweird for me as it was for him. I mean, call me old fashioned, but I think that when a girl does… that… for the first time, it should be with someone that she really wants to be with, and who returns those feelings in return. But how do you explain to someone who's been your best friend forever, that on reflection you're not so sure if you were ever really in love with anything other than the idea of being in love? The last two months hadn't even been about love anymore. It had been like a competition I was determined to win; an adversary I was determined to defeat.

Okay, so given all of that, I can see why my mom might think I might have some… things… to work out. And maybe I have been a little out of sorts for the last five or six months. And I did decide to put off selecting a college to go to for another semester… And yes, I do sometimes sit there and stare into space without really seeing anything. But that's normal, right?

Right?

But no, my mom thinks I'm repressing my feelings, and no matter how many times I try to convince her that I'm just… going through a phase, she just gives me that look. That look is the only known counter to the puppy-dog pout that we Possible women have perfected, and I'm not allowed to describe it exactly because if it was ever acquired by hostile powers, the very universe as we know it might be in danger.

Just… suffice it to say that when my mother, the Brain Surgeon, says, "I don't think you're being honest, not with me and not with yourself" while she uses that look, I don't have much of a chance of fighting it. And in any case, how am I supposed to answer something like that anyway?

I mean, to be perfectly truthful, I really don't know what I want anymore. I still like being a hero, and I like making a difference but…

Totally honest, huh Mom?

Okay, I'm going to say this once, just once, and never again, 'cause it's just about the stupidest thing I could ever say. It's ridiculous, it's preposterous and… my mom's probably kinda right about me being more stressed than usual because…

Well, it's just that ever since she and Dr. Drakken were pardoned… Shego's been completely off my radar and I…

I miss…

I miss the thrill of testing myself against her. That's it. It's like she was the gauge I measured myself by, the only one who every really challenged me on a physical level. No, I'm not talking about some kind of 'fight club' thing, but it is as if this huge part of my life, a critical part of what made me ME is just... gone.

And I have no idea what to do about it.

* click- click- BEEP!*

Okay, I just waited an hour, then came back and listened to everything again, just like my mom suggested.

I did it calmly. I listened objectively.

And I think Mom's right.

I miss SHEGO?

I am going crazy.

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Wednesday, October 2,

* click- BEEP!*

Hey Diary.

Me again.

Just when I thought my life couldn't get any weirder, it did.

I was coming home from Club Banana… yeah, I know, I don't work there anymore, but I like helping Mo out, and I figure if I keep showing up just to chat and help fold the jeans, she won't start thinking I'm holding something against her for letting me go.

Oh, didn't I ever mention that before? Yeah, I guess I didn't bother to enter it in my written diary. The truth is that my best friend who's not a boy I've known since pre-k fired me from the only 'real' job I ever had that I liked. It's totally not her fault, of course, and I can see how the other girls would have been completely justified in complaining about having to cover for me when I…

But I'm getting off the subject.

So I was coming towards the house and I saw three strange cars in front of the house. Not strange as in "Motor Ed sixteen tires with rocket launcher strange," but strange as in they didn't belong there. To begin with, the State Police vehicle was unusual. Usually it's the Middleton PD that shows up when the Tweebs detonate something, but give that they're off at Space Camp, I couldn't see any reason for law enforcement to be visiting. As for the second vehicle… I rather doubt that my parents would be expecting a visit from anybody who drives a Rolls-Royce Phantom VI… especially given that there were less than four hundred ever made. The last vehicle, however, made the others make sense. A completely unremarkable sedan that the eye would normally slide right past… unless, like me, you notice that it doesn't have any identifying characteristics at all… and already know that this strangely over-generic motorcar is the actually preferred form of transport for a certain semi-secret law enforcement agency when they're trying to be unobtrusive.

Which is why I wasn't surprised at all to find Dr. Director sitting in the living room with my parents. I WAS a bit surprised to find that they were sharing tea, as Betty is normally a coffee drinker. And what totally threw me off were the other two individuals; a swarthy-skinned man dressed entirely in black who would probably look extremely intimidating were it not for the fact that his left leg and right arm were in casts, and an older woman with an aristocratic bearing and a Calina Klein jacket that cost more than my father and mother together make in six months.

"Ah, dear, you're home," My mom gulped. She looked extremely nervous. And worried. My mom rarely looks worried, so this was worrying.

A quick look to the right showed that my Dad had the same nervous look. Even Dr. Director looked nervous as she jumped to her feet with a suddenness that I'd never seen that uber-competent woman display.

"Kimberly Anne Possible," Betty spoke formally. "I would like to present you to Her Royal Majesty, Clarisse Renaldi, Queen of Genovia."

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For once, the fact that Shego crawled out of bed looking like something the cat had drug in was only partially because of her hangover. The other part was because she had, in fact, spent much of the previous evening being drug about a cat… a two ton saber-toothed Persian, to be specific… which DNAmy had created while in the midst of one of her manic depressive funks.

There had been a time when DNAmy hadn't been Shego's problem. However, despite having been "pardoned" for her part in helping save the world from the Lowardians, the green ex-villainess had still been legally obligated to fulfill the terms of her contract to Drew Lipsky and the blue-skinned fool had foolishly agreed to "host" the no longer completely sane biologist as a favor for Global Justice in the hopes that Amy might be able to produce something of value to the scientific community if properly supervised. Shego had thought the idea was daft… the idea of the former Dr. Drakken being a proper supervisor for anyone had seemed doomed to failure… but given that Amy HAD cured the common cold and herpes in the six months she'd been here, Shego had been forced to admit that maybe there was something to it after all. Unfortunately, that meant that when the Cuddlebuddy obsessed genius forgot to restrain one of her little genetic "doodles" before she passed out from her typical overdose of peppermint schnapps, it was Shego's job to put the resulting mess back in the kennels/test tubes/vats. In the last three weeks alone, Shego had had to deal with killer sheep, what she thought was a hybrid of an octopus and an IRS auditor, a six headed snake that inexplicably sang the entire O-Boys catalog in perfect harmony, and a plastic eating jellyfish with a special fetish for spandex that had left Shego naked and covered with spooge before she'd finally shoved it in a freezer.

Shego shivered in disgust as she made her way into her tiny bathroom and stared at the rings under her eyes. Who in their right mind got blitzed on peppermint schnapps?

Stepping into the small shower stall, Shego reached up and grasped the neck of the shower spigot with her right hand and turned her plasma up to the right temperature for pre-heating the water. It took forever for water from the main boilers to reach her room here at the ass end of the former lair, but she'd rather deal with having to be her own heating element than put up with the noise of the contractors working on Drew's latest grand experiment. Why the Henchco henchmen had been able to do the same thing while making a fraction of the noise these union jackasses made was yet another cross Shego felt she had to bear.

But not for much longer. Shego had exactly five weeks left on her contract and there was no way she was signing up for another year. As far as she was concerned, Global Justice had taken more than enough advantage of her sweet green ass, and her next job would be…

…

Okay, so she had no idea what her next job would be. With nothing illegal on his agenda, Drakken wasn't willing to renew her contract at her current her salary bracket. No surprise there, and when she'd seen Drew's muscle-bound cousin Eddie sneak in the other day, she assumed he'd just applied for the job. Given that his entire motor pool had been wiped out during the Lowardian Invasion and insurance companies don't cover supervillains, he'd be willing to take whatever Drakken was willing to pay. She also knew that the OTHER big blue bane of her life, Hego, was still adding tidbits and 'incentives' to the offer he'd talked Go City into putting up. However, free refills at any Go City Bueno Nacho was not the enticement Hego obviously thought it was, the cash was still way below what she'd been pulling the last few years and she'd already done the hero thing with her brothers before. Going back to that wouldn't just be a huge step backwards, it would also probably end up with her in jail for killing one of her siblings. Probably Hego, but she wouldn't rule Mego out. Now, if the Wegos had wanted to quit Team Go and hook up with her, she might have considered it, but they hadn't offered and she figured they knew that she'd be a much harder task master than Hego would ever be.

No, the only offer that she'd ever really even thought about the possibility of considering so far was the one from Betty Director. The one in the manila envelope which she'd kept meaning to throw out, yet always put back on her dresser to review 'one more time' later.

Maybe she ought to just go back to being a criminal. She was good at it. Damn good. Hell, Jack Hench had tried to hire her away from Drakken a half dozen times in the past, as had Dementor. But there was no way she was going back to being a sidekick; she had street cred now, and knew she could get financing. And if she ever did decide she wanted to take over the world, she could do a better job at it than anybody except maybe Senior Senior Sr.

And on the plus side, if she went back to evil, she'd have an excuse to fight Kimmie again. She hated to admit it, but the stupid little redhead had become a major part of her life, and the fact that they'd gone out with neither of them definitively kicking the other's ass once and for all was like a gaping hole in Shego's existence.

"Gah!" Shego screeched as the water from the pipes suddenly went ice cold again. Slamming the water spigot off rapidly, she stood there, shivering in the shower. She'd actually lost concentration to the point where she'd let her hands go out! What the hell was wrong with her?

With a sigh, she stepped out of the stall and willed the ambient temperature of the air surrounding her body to rise to just a hair below her plasma's ignition threshold. In response, the beaded water droplets slowly began to bubble and turn to steam, but Shego's mind was elsewhere. She had to get out of this funk she was in. She needed to get out and do… something!

Oh, what the hell, she still had a few weeks to make up her mind. Surely there must be SOMETHING she could do that she'd actually enjoy.

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She was halfway dressed when the urgent pounding came on the door… which, since she usually wore nothing except a close shave under her trademark suit, meant that she was totally naked but holding the suit in one hand.

"Shego!" It was Drakken, er, Drew, of course. No one else would dare disturb her before she'd actually come out of her room of her own volition. Even for the self-preservationally challenged blue man, though, this was astonishingly persistent.

"Shego!" Drew repeated, knocking furiously. "Are you up?"

"I am now!" Shego growled, unwilling to give up a potential arguing chit by admitting that he hadn't woken her. "What?"

"Turn on your TV! Turn it on!"

"Why?"

"You have to see it. Trust me. ANY news channel."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Shego grumbled, but was intrigued enough to pick up the spare remote from her nightstand and flick the on switch.

Her jaw fell to the floor, where it was quickly joined by her catsuit.

Dumbstruck, Shego sat down naked on the edge of her bed and turned up the sound. Not that she needed to. The picture of a certain redhead and the giant caption in white against red covering the bottom quarter of the screen had already told her all of the story that she really needed to know.

'KIM POSSIBLE – HEIR TO THE THRONE OF GENOVIA'

"Oh my God," Shego finally managed to gasp as a weird burning sensation ignited in her chest and an odd little wisp of plasma leaked from her still open mouth. "She really IS a Princess!"